


Punishment For A Guardian's Sins

by TerminusVerso



Series: Retribution [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: But mostly Ink, Dark, FGOD Error (Past), FGOD/FGOC Ink, Forced god of creation, Forced god of destruction, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insanity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, everyone has a bad time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminusVerso/pseuds/TerminusVerso
Summary: Mistakes were made. The outcome of which has forever altered the fragile Balance between Creation and Destruction, as the two forces now twist and toil within a single host: Ink, the Multiverse's protector. Alas, not even Fate can save her beloved child from the negative power she created. Creation... Destruction... The two battle in his mind and soul. Each attempting to gain control so their own job can be accomplished.Blue would be a great help during these trying times, but the cheerful skeleton went AWOL soon after the destroyer's presumed demise. And Ink- madness consumed his mind far swifter than anyone predicted. That left the safety of the entire Multiverse on Dream's shoulders, as he is the only one left to take on such a role. Overwhelming for one monster, no? But that is the least of his troubles. He needs to run the Council, locate their missing member, fix Ink somehow, and...Survive the darkness brewing in the shadows.
Series: Retribution [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635277
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	Punishment For A Guardian's Sins

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [*OLD VERSION* Healing What Has Been Broken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173776) by [Harrish6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrish6/pseuds/Harrish6). 



> And the story continues.

Sunlight shimmered and shined through the magic-repellent bars lining the window, illuminating the maddeningly dun-colored brick walls and nullifying the lit candles. Though, not enough that one couldn't find themself entranced by the beautiful, dancing flames. The tiny window only revealed a small sliver of the great blue that lied beyond. It was a tease. A horrible aspect meant to torture someone by showing them that freedom was close yet so far away, which felt like a significant regret right about now. Amidst the unreachable world, animals chittered and chattered and frolicked in their amaranthine freedom. Birds- colorful little creatures who were simultaneously too dull and too bright spent the daylight hours chirping their hideous tunes on the exterior windowsill. Once upon a time, those noises brought joy- An ungodly nuance was what they really were. They grated nerves and pierced nonexistent eardrums. Hardly the worst thing, however. An errant leaf or petal would flutter passed the bars from time to time. A great reminder that the carefully plotted and decorated garden outside was in full bloom. _T̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶d̶e̶s̶t̶r̶o̶y̶e̶d̶.̶_

The Star Council, mainly the Creator, built this prison with the intent of housing the Destroyer in it. And it did. Just not the one they originally constructed it for. Indeed, contained within the impenetrable walls happened to be none other the very monster who created them: Ink, the Multiverse's God of Creation and Guardian of AUs. _  
_

Said God had seen better days. His usual clothes were gone, having been ruined by frantic clawing hands and dark stains; Mutilated beyond recognition during a fit of violent destruction. _Destruction of his own making_. A black/gray shirt replaced the beautiful brown jacket and long-sleeved undershirt he once wore. It used to be white, but the copious amounts of ink he had been producing dyed it. The shortness of the new shirt's sleeves revealed his tattoos' intricate, swirling design. (Their big reveal shocked many Sanses, as none thought the God of Creation would have something generally associated with wrongdoings. A stupid notion in Ink's opinion. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He was a lover of art, and as far as he was concerned, tattoos counted as art.) A plain pair of black shorts occupied the space where his brown overalls used to be. Due to their color, they could not befall the same fate as the shirt. Last of all, a shredded coat - really no more than a pair of red sleeves and a hood - sat around his waist, tightly tied there. 

Ink's appearance fared just as poorly as his clothes. That soul- It did something to him. Something bad. For the most part, he still looked like an average skeleton- except with ghastly grey, unhealthily thin bones. Then, the illusion was broke when white/black glitches flickered across his bones, revealing signs of the tainted monster he had become. The black substance his tattoos, eyes, and mouth now regularly secreted stained his bones. Only certain portions, though. A blotch of black on his radius, a few matching, thin streaks running down from his sockets to his chin, and his hapless hands - the appendages he desperately attempted to halt the ink with - were stained almost entirely, including his teeth. Very few parts were either grey or dark grey, and rarely ever white. As for his additional face-markings, most thought it to be a small blessing that they resembled paint drips and not the destroyer's sorrowful tears.

However, they certainly didn't help his empty, sometimes demonic expression. Not that time had helped it either. Whether day or night, the skeleton failed to catch a wink of sleep, leaving deep, black bags beneath his sockets. Which only accentuated the eerie hollow appearance they held. His eyelights, while there, were no more than pinpricks and hardly visible to the naked eye. Occasionally, the little white dots would glitch to and fro, creeping out anyone close enough to see them. Ink was indifferent toward it. The spastic movement barely affected his eyesight, so he saw no reason to worry about it. 

Bare feet tapped on the stone floor, a slight shiver crawling through them each time they made contact. Laughter bubbled from the caged God's smiling jaws. There was no real reason behind it; no funny thought or urge to break the crushing silence, merely pure madness. Ink's unhinged giggles died down as he began to shift from side to side where he sat. His current resting place being an off-white, torn-up mattress situated on the floor, settled in the corner furthest from the door. Shredded fabric and stuffing littered the area around him. Some of which came from the pillows and blanket ~~the abomination~~ Dream had given him. Neither object lasted long, as it hadn't taken more than a few hours before Ink destroyed them in a fit of uncontrollable rage, an accursed emotion. He loathed _rage_. It coiled unpleasantly around ~~Error's~~ his soul, made his bone scalding hot, and caused his chest to heave with fiery breaths. The kind that felt like fire crawled up his throat ever single time he breathed. 

_Worst of all, that hellish feeling never left._

A sudden sob escaped Ink's throat. Pain - a sharp, unyielding thing - stabbed at his soul, digging its claws into it to inform him that he needed to work. To ~~destroy~~ create. The demand, however, could not be answered. His prison had zero escape routes, no paints to work with, and nothing to destroy further. The skeleton wildly gazed upon every corner of the room, phalanges curling into the plush surface beneath, cutting the fabric. Void eye sockets searched for something, anything to satiate the burning need ~~desire~~ to do his job. They flitted passed the four walls/corners of the room and the already destroyed bedding- the efforts were to no avail. Failing to find anything useful or destructible, Ink stood up and began to pace the length of his prison, much like a caged animal.

 _I have to get out of here_ , he thought. _I have to do something. But what, what, what to do?_

 _Kill? Destroy- No, no, no, I don't want to do that._

_I don't, don't, don't, but would it matter if I did?_

The monsters just beyond his reach were in the way, taking up precious space and preventing him from creating more. Surely, no one would miss a few ~~million~~ of them. Ink knew he wouldn't. Before that train of thought could continue, his mind ran rampant with inner voices that were not his own. 

_Destroy, you need to destroy!_

_Create a pretty AU with sparkly pink sand and glowing trees and polka dot animals and three purple suns!_

_No. No. No. The Multiverse is too crowded. That will ruin everything we've worked so hard to create._

_Destroy. Destroy. Destroy. Destr-_

"SHUT UP!" Ink wailed, curling in on himself and clutching both sides of his skull. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" 

The chant slowly sputtered away as harsh sobs wracked his body. His namesake oozed out of his eye sockets, like false tears. The ink-stained phalanges on his hands scraped against the ashen bone of his skull, causing dust to flake off it. He collapsed onto the stone floor, unable to stand on shaking legs. Then he rolled on his side and tightly curled into a ball, not once noticing that the banshee cries had vanished from his mind. Seconds, minutes, even days could have passed during the time the skeleton God laid there; time had long since lost meaning to Ink. Ever since his sanity started dwindling, it became even harder for him to remember things and keep his thoughts straight. Thus making it difficult to recall how long he'd been doing an activity or keeping track of the days that passed. So, there, Ink lied while the world moved on. Nature's wonders ~~annoyances~~ peeked through the window to stare, speaking to each other in their awful language. A guard (some unnamed Sans) routinely knocked on the door and asked if he was okay. A stupid question, really. The chatter of monsters filtered in from the garden. Some 'chatter' even being the sound of arguing and sparring. Yet all those elements failed to break the skeleton out of his stupor. 

As more time passed, a small white lily petal fluttered through the window's bars and landed on Ink's balled-up form. He instantly reacted to the unwanted touch. With the speed and ferocity of a striking snake, he unfurled, snatching up the petal in his hands before tearing it into tiny pieces and shoving the remains in his mouth. After a second or two, Ink spit it out along with a dark, wet substance. An ink strand hung from his jaws, connecting to the icky glob. He openly stared at the mess as his pinprick eyelights slowly returned. Shame coiled in his soul. He was Ink, God of Creation, Guardian of the AUs; he should be better than this. The skeleton blinked, somewhat surprised by his thoughts. His eyelights crept away from the inky, flowery mixture and gazed around the room. A light frown settled on his face. 

In a rare moment of clarity, Ink pondered the events that led him to his current predicament, and possibly, eventual demise. Every mistake, assumption, and bad idea- All the things he should have done better. For example: hearing out Error during the many times he attempted to explain his job, not being so quick to judge because another held different views, protecting all the residents of the Multiverse instead of being selective, and of course, stopping Error from reaching his breaking point. If it were possible to turn back time, Ink would most definitely do that. Maybe slap his past-self, too, while he was there. Though, perhaps he only felt that way because the pain of the Destroyer passed on to him. And to think he was already going insane. The number of days he had been infected paled in comparison to the millennia Error was forced to suffer through, with his antics causing added pain. 

_The voices, the pain, the rage, the confusion- It's really no wonder why you went insane. In fact, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner._

_If I had known this is what it felt like to be you_ , Ink thought, gazing out the wall's minuscule casement to the sky beyond. _  
_

_...I would have tried to help._


End file.
